Guardian
by abetha0808
Summary: Guardian angel James Barnes doesn't have an easy job, not when little Steve Rogers is constantly getting himself into trouble. Despite Bucky's pleas, Steve manages to enlist in the army and becomes Captain America. As the ever-constant fight between Heaven and Hell worsens, both Steve and Bucky are fighting wars. Stucky AU. CATWS Spoilers.
1. You're Falling From a Train

He didn't expect to wake up, but he did. Bucky had fallen. Steve watched the light leave him, eyes growing almost hollow, mouth gaping in agony. And then heard the first of- from what he knew from Bucky's stories- would be the first of many, many heart-wrenching screams. Then he was gone, leaving a single, white feather behind. Steve kept it. He held it as the plane went down, as he spoke to Peggy for the last time and made a date he knew he'd never be able to keep, knowing that- for a week at least, Bucky would not be able to come save him. There could be redemption for the fallen. Bucky could go on, if he really wanted to. Just not with Steve.

And then he was awake. And they were telling him what year it was, and how credit cards worked and about the internet and TV. Steve was consumed by a sense of loss. Everything he'd ever known- gone. Everyone he'd ever loved- dead. Even Bucky was gone. Bucky, who'd promised Steve that he would never be further than a word away.

_"You don't gotta get beat up no more. Just just say my name, Stevie-o, an' I'm there."_

_For all the world, they looked like two young boys, kicking rocks down the street, with nowhere to go, and no one to miss them. _

_"Yeah, Buck, I know," he mumbled, ashamed eyes cast downwards._

_"No!" Bucky stopped, holding Steve's shoulders gently, but firmly, forcing Steve to look him in the eyes. "My real-serious name, Steve. You gotta use that one or I won't hear you. Say you need me." He took a step back. "Practice."_

_And Bucky was gone, vanished into thin air. So often was he by Steve's side that the smaller boy felt almost naked in his absence. "James," he said softly. "I need you."_

_"There ya go," Bucky said, a touch of relief in his voice as he tapped Steve on the shoulder, mussing his hair playfully. "That's it. Whenever ya need a pal, okay? I'm always gonna be there. 'Til the end of the line, punk."_

Steve had nightmares now, the kind that made him wake up to the sound of his own screaming. He screamed for Bucky, used the real-serious name he'd been taught as a child. Steve dreamed about the slow way he'd frozen to- not death, but at the time, it had felt that way. Hands tightening into fists by his side as he laid down, deciding to die with dignity. He laid still and sobbed. "James! James, please, please, I need you now, I need you, please, James."

He couldn't stop crying for him. Whether anyone else knew or not, Bucky was dead. He had to be. Or else he'd come when Steve needed him to.

* * *

Sometimes the Asset convulsed when they had him in cryo, surrounded by holy fire to keep him trapped in place. It was a recent trend, they'd noticed. Just in the last few years. Maybe he was getting worn out- but then, his fighting skills seemed only to get better. Odd. He shouldn't have been able to move at all, much less have what looked almost like seizures. Still. It did not effect his usefulness, and so they did not bother looking into it.

* * *

He was James now, and 'Bucky' was a memory that faded to the back of his mind, slipped under images of war, and death, hid under piles that were too heavy to move. 'Bucky' faded, but it took longer for Steve to go. James remembered him for quite a time before the wipes got rid of him. He remembered Steve holding him as he fell, large, but always gentle hands brushing his hair back, murmuring in his ear. Promising he'd be okay. At the time, it had been almost deja vu, but reversed. He'd been so used to taking care of Steve, so used to comforting and cradling him. And then he was ripped away, screaming.

When he finally recovered, wings blackened and bedraggled, James dragged himself into a diner for food and the first thing he heard was that Steve was dead. He got sick on the spot, hands braced on the grimy tiles. Steve couldn't be dead. He'd have felt it. He'd have felt it, he was supposed to have felt it. Unless the pain of falling had covered it up. That was possible. He'd never lost anyone before, so he didn't know how it felt. He'd never been assigned anyone before. They'd grown up together.

He wandered after that, purposeless. It wasn't long before he was snagged up by the Red Room.

The loss of memory was almost a gift. In a sick kind of way, he served him in gratitude.

At least he didn't hurt anymore.


	2. Hitting the Ground

_He'd been holding it together pretty well until he got into the house. "M'fine, Bucky stop lookin' at me like that," he grumbled, staring down at the bowl of soup._

_Bucky remained irritatingly still, looking sagely over at him. He was not 'fine'. He wasn't even in the same hemisphere as 'fine'. His mom, one of the only two people who'd consistently loved and cared about him, was gone. And he had literally one person left in the world who gave a damn if he lived or died. Bucky was sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that Steve was not 'fine'. "S'okay to hurt, Steve, you know that, right?"_

_"Just shuddup, Bucky, okay?" Steve left the table, shoving his chair away. It was not okay to hurt. Until the day he'd drunken himself to death, Steve's father had beaten that message into his son. Hated the boy for being small, for being weak, for being sickly. For feeling, for hurting, for crying. 'Men don't cry.' Steve had the message bruised into his skin, beaten into his bones, leaked into his cuts. It was not okay to hurt, but he did. _

_Bucky let him be for a few moments, cleaning up the kitchen slowly. He entered the living room with light tread, peeking over to the couch, where Steve was curled up into a ball, hands over his face. He was shaking. Not having an asthma attack, Bucky knew what those looked like, how to help Steve through them. Sobbing. And it broke Bucky's heart. He sat beside him on the couch, and though he couldn't say anything to make it better, he could be there. Sometimes that was all even he could do, with all the power he had. Just be there. It would have to be enough. _

_Steve leaned into Bucky's side, hands making fists in the bigger man's shirt, crumpling it up. No point in pretending to be strong. Bucky had always known exactly how he was weak. He felt a hand on his back, rubbing gently, arm around him, pulling him close like a child. _

_"Shh, shh. Stevie, you're okay. You're okay. It's gonna be fine, I'm here. I'm always here. You're not alone, Steve, it's okay." _

_And Steve believed him._

* * *

SHIELD was not as idealistic in nature as its emblematic origin might suggest. They operated in shadow, sent Steve around on missions he didn't quite understand, and was sure that there was more to. He didn't like it, being a tool. He would not be used by them, but he didn't have the option to do anything else either. Steve wanted to talk with Fury, but there was never time, and he never seemed to get his point across.

Bucky used to say that darkness brewed darkness. Demons invited more demons. Shadows spawned shadows. SHIELD had been stewing in the twilight for too long to recover when HYDRA finally surfaced. Steve was left to do as he always had- fight. HYDRA's evil went deep, and he was determined to root it out. It went into places Steve thought even they would never stoop to. They had a fallen angel working for them, one who nearly killed Steve on the bridge. He'd have pitied the thing, if he wasn't busy fighting it. The fallen were unstable, usually suffering from some degree of psychosis. Falling did that, Bucky told him. _Screws ya up good, punk. Screws ya up real good._ And this one- had a metal arm, wild eyes, long unkempt hair. Screwed up, real good.

Steve thought that, if he could manage to kill it, it might be a mercy for the thing. And then the mask fell off. And his heart nearly stopped.

"Bucky?"

It was barely a whisper, the name that Steve screamed at night.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"


End file.
